


this, or nothing

by softambrollins



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Sex, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: "Seth — finally — you will lose control."Dean goes to find Seth before their match at TLC. He made him a promise, after all.





	this, or nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Is self-indulgent angst a thing? Because that's what this is. It's just a mess of ideas I have about TLC, fuelled by all Dean's talk about wanting to make Seth lose control. Because how else was I supposed to take that, honestly.

He hasn't seen Seth all day. He assumed he would try to track him down at some point. He was prepared for that. Seth has to know he's in the building, and Dean figured he wouldn't be able to wait until their match. Maybe he's better at resisting than Dean thought. Or maybe he's forcing the urge deep down, because he knows he _can't_ resist. Not when Dean's in front of him.

He's never seen Seth like this before. He's made him angry before, no one does it better than Dean — but he's been acting like a man gone wild, like he's been untethered from all his codes and rules and everything that keeps up his facade of control, like he really doesn't care anymore. It's almost enough to stir something up in Dean that he hasn't felt in a while.

He's only seen glimpses of that side of Seth before, but he knows what he has the potential to become. He wants to strip away all the layers of pretension and deception and bullshit that's become who Seth Rollins is and unleash the savage animal inside. He knows it's there, just waiting to be let out. Seth's kept it locked inside for so long, it must be starving, must be desperate, must be clawing for release.

Seth's not better than him. He's not better than anyone. He's a slave to his body and his desires and his anger and his emotions. Maybe he's even weaker than Dean thought.

He barges into every room in the building before he finds him. 

He's hiding out in some abandoned office apparently, sitting on a ratty, old couch. 

He's just sitting there, head down, headphones in, probably listening to his emo shit.

He doesn't hear the door opening or his footsteps until he's almost on top of him. Dean honestly expected better.

His head jerks up and then he flinches away when he realises Dean's standing right over him. 

"The fuck do you want?" he mumbles, yanking his headphones out, one hand curling into a fist, the other gripping the couch next to him tightly like he thinks that's going to steady him. But Dean can see right through him. His body's betraying him. His eyes are panicked and his breathing's already ragged.

Dean just smirks at him. "I just wanna talk," he says, giving him his most innocent look. "I promise."

"I don't want to talk to you, Dean," Seth grits out, but there's a slight tremble in his voice.

"Yeah, what do you want then?" Dean asks sweetly.

"I want you to leave me alone." He swallows hard. He looks up at Dean and then averts his gaze away from him like he can't even bear that anymore. Dean doesn't blame him. Looking himself in the eyes in the mirror makes him want to break something, makes him want to bash his own face in.

He'll settle for Seth. 

"Nah," he says, shaking his head regretfully. "You don't want that. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if I stopped caring about you."

Seth shifts back away from him as far as he can go. He hasn't even tried to get away, or to fight back, and that's almost disappointing. He's making this too easy.

But then he takes a breath, looks up at Dean with something like defiance in his eyes. "So you admit it. You still care." Dean remembers what it felt like when Seth said the same thing to him in the ring more than a year ago, trying to catch him off his guard. And the way he says it now, like he's won something, makes him want to knock his teeth out. But that'll come later.

Dean brushes it off, stows it away for another time. "You wish," he tells him, voice low.

"You're right," Seth says after a second, still staring at him. "I don't want you to leave me alone. Being alone fucking sucks."

"That's pretty fucked-up," Dean tells him, almost appreciatively. "That you think _this_ is better than nothing."

"Maybe we're both pretty fucked-up," Seth says, like he's accepted that.

"Yeah," Dean says, nodding absently, then he slowly reaches out, resting one hand on Seth's skinny jean-clad thigh, sliding a leg in between Seth's knees.

"Dean, what —" Seth exhales, sounding genuinely surprised.

"This is what you wanted, right?" Dean says, licking his lips. "When you'd look at me with those big, longing eyes, when you'd follow me around like a puppy dog —" 

"Fuck you, Dean," Seth spits out angrily, but Dean can feel how Seth's already responding, to his proximity, to his touch. He can't hide how much he wants this.

"You're so full of shit, Seth. You act so high and mighty, but you're just as sick and despicable as the rest of us," he says, leaning down and curling his hand around the back of Seth's neck. He can feel his pulse where his thumb's gently pressing into his skin.

"Shut up," Seth tells him breathily, eyes closed, his body squirming a little under his hands, tilting his head back away from him.

Dean finally, finally leans in, and attaches his mouth to the side of Seth's neck, drags his lips over his skin, tasting sweat and salt. He opens his mouth, letting his teeth graze against Seth's pulse point and then lets his tongue swipe over his warm, sensitive skin.

He hears Seth let out a cut-off gasp, and he finally unclenches his hands, lets them wander up Dean's back, clutching at his jacket.

"The fuck are you doing, Dean?" he says against Dean's ear, already sounding desperate.

"Just relax," Dean tells him. "Let someone else take care of you for once in your life."

Seth doesn't say anything, just takes in a couple deep breaths, his forehead resting against Dean's cheek.

He puts his hands in Seth's hair, gently guides him so that he's lying down on the sofa, head against the armrest. Seth's still breathing hard, lips parted, his eyes wide and dark, just staring up at him. 

Dean shrugs his jacket off and tosses it on the floor. He rests his knees on the edge of the couch, then slowly slides over until he's on top of him, straddling his hips. He reaches down and cups Seth's cheek in his hand, their eyes meeting, only a few inches apart.

"First, I'm gonna fuck you," he tells him softly. "And then I'm gonna take your title."

Seth just swallows hard and then pulls him down so they're kissing, rough and clumsy and painful. Dean bites down on Seth's lip so hard he tastes blood and Seth yanks on his hair, making his eyes water. Everything gets in the way, teeth, noses, foreheads. For two people who know each other's bodies so well, it's strange, but somehow _right_ at the same time. This is always how it was gonna happen. On the eve of them destroying each other for good. Suck all the poison out in one go.

Dean manages to get both their shirts off without either one of them getting concussed. And then he adjusts himself better over Seth, pins both his wrists down against the cushions. He looks wrecked already like this, hair everywhere, a sheen of sweat over his bare chest, and this is just how Dean likes him best.

He leans down and hungrily puts his lips to his skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the centre of his chest, over his abs, licks at the V of his hip bones leading under his pants. Seth's biting back his moans but Dean can feel the tension in every single one of his muscles. He's still trying so hard to restrain himself from letting go completely even when he knows he's already lost, and that makes this even better.

Dean's gonna revel in slowly taking him apart piece by piece.

He pops the button on Seth's jeans, slowly unzips them, tugs them down just the slightest off his hips. He doesn't use his hands, just leans down and breathes hot and wet over the bulge in his underwear.

Seth can't hold in the swears that escape his mouth then. Dean grabs his thighs to hold him in place and goes in again, teasing the head of Seth's dick with his tongue through the thin fabric. 

"Fucking god, Dean, _please_ —" Seth gasps. And Dean has to stop and just soak that in for a moment. He straightens up again, leans his head back, eyes closed and just breathes in long and deep.

Part of him just wants to leave right now. He got what he came here for. Seth's entirely in his hands. He's proven his point. Seth's just as weak and emotional and needy as he ever thought. Or maybe Seth knew that all along and he just doesn't care. Maybe he meant it when he said _this_ was better than nothing.

When he opens his eyes again, it's almost like he's waking up from a deep sleep. Seth just looks at him, slightly confused for a moment. And then Dean just wets his lips and impatiently shoves Seth's pants all the way down his legs before sliding his underwear off. 

He pins Seth's arms down again before leaning down and taking him in his mouth. 

He hasn't done this in a while but his gag reflex's basically non-existent so it's not too hard to hollow his cheeks out and swallow him down as far as he can go.

Seth's quieter than he expected now. Maybe he actually did get concussed, or maybe he's just too overwhelmed to function anymore. Maybe he's blacked out. He's just making the softest sighs, head thrown back, hips just barely pressing up off the couch with each stroke of Dean's lips over him. He looks totally blissed-out. Like he's somewhere else entirely, away from their current reality. It almost makes him want to kiss him again, slow and gentle this time. He's not sure if it's because he wants to end his fantasy or if he wants to join him there.

He shakes it off. He made Seth a promise, and he's a man of his word. 

He pulls off before he thinks Seth's near and unbuckles his belt, pulls his own pants down. 

Seth reaches for him then, suddenly urgent, and just looks at him for a moment, before he pulls him close and kisses him deep and lingering, like he knows this is going to be the last time. 

Seth's just breathing quietly against his cheek, beard scratching pleasantly against Dean's, when he slowly pushes into him.

He takes a deep breath in, and then exhales as Dean carefully adjusts his position inside of him. They just stay like that for a minute before Dean starts to move in earnest, Seth's hips raising up to meet his thrusts. 

Seth's so, so hot and tight around him, it feels like he's gonna explode at any moment. He tries to focus on his breathing, on the feeling of Seth's fIngers pressing into his back, his legs wrapped around his waist, the sounds of Seth completely and utterly falling apart under him. By his hands. No one else is ever gonna see Seth lose control like this. It almost makes him sad for what he knows he has to do next.

"Touch me, Dean, please," Seth manages to say, breathless and desperate.

He grips one hand tightly in Seth's hair and slides the other down between their bodies to wrap around his dick, working his fist over him in time with his thrusts.

He can feel how close Seth is from the way his body tenses, fingernails scratching at his skin, knees digging into his sides. He gets even more impossibly tight around him and Dean can't bear it anymore.

Seth pulls him in again, grasping his face in both hands and pressing their mouths together as Dean comes hard inside him.

Dean keeps moving and stroking him through it, moaning loudly against his lips, until Seth follows, every muscle relaxing at once, coming between them in warm, messy stripes.

They just stay like that for a moment, panting against each other's skin, Seth's arms still wrapped around him, before he pulls out and rolls off of him, sitting up. He unceremoniously pulls his pants back on, grabs his t-shirt off the dirty floor to clean them both up before pulling it over his head — and then just stays there, his back to Seth, head bowed. 

He can hear Seth sitting up behind him, getting back into his jeans. He feels him move closer and then he just wordlessly presses his cheek against Dean's shoulder.

Neither of them dares disturb the silence. Everything else is in ruins around them, but maybe they're allowed this one moment in the midst of it all.

Eventually, Dean lets out a sigh and slowly gets to his feet, grabs his jacket off the floor. Seth puts his shirt back on, but doesn't get up. Dean can feel his stare on his back, like a real, solid thing.

Dean turns back to look at him one last time, and Seth meets his gaze, a tender look in his eyes.

"Dean —" Seth starts.

"It — It wasn't your fault, okay?" Dean tells him quietly. "It's me. Loving me was the only mistake you made."

Seth just looks at him like his heart's been shattered all over again.

And then Dean turns and walks away.

 

*

 

Dean's on his hands and knees and he's not getting up. There's nowhere to go. Boot to skull to mat and it's all over. Seth almost doesn't want it to end, though. He wishes this match could go on forever. He's not ready to go back to his hotel room to be alone with his title and with the wreckage in his heart.

He stops for a second, feeling the weight of all of it crashing down on him, and he almost sinks to his knees himself, almost breaks down completely right there in the ring.

And then Dean raises his head and looks right at him and the world around him disappears.

He holds one hand up in front of him shakily, struggling to get back to his feet. "Please, Seth, please — I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?"

Seth just stares at him like he's never seen him before. But he can't do anything. Dean's on his knees in front of him and he's saying things he can't possibly mean but it's Dean, it's _Dean_ , and they'll never be nothing to each other. He can't even begin to imagine living like that.

So, he reaches his hand out and Dean takes it.

And he pulls him up to his feet and just looks at him some more. Almost numb. Dean touches their foreheads together. And this can't be real, he has to be dreaming. 

Dean takes his face in both hands and presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"I love you, Seth," Dean tells him, voice muffled. "I love you, okay?"

Seth breathes out and surrenders completely to the feeling, his body leaning on Dean's, the only thing holding him up anymore.

And then Dean slowly pulls away, looks him in the eyes — and then his head's being driven into the canvas.

He only barely registers the count. His head's swimming, his ears are ringing. He can't even begin to think about getting up. _1\. 2. 3._

And then he hears the crowd erupt, just a wall of noise. The world floods back in.

There's static in his head. His heart feels like it's going to give out from the absolute, debilitating pain.

Everything's so loud.

Dean's gone before he can even realise it, taking his title with him. Taking everything. Leaving him alone in an empty ring.

There's nothing left.

_Nothing._


End file.
